


Treasure Mine

by WizardSandwich



Series: to waver and falter [1]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: I really love this pairing, M/M, and its more than one chapter, but the third chapter will be Actual Plot okay thanks, chapter one is a lot of me setting up and stuff tbh, ill tag this as i go, im really proud of this fic tbh, im v bad at titles, so im extra proud, the second chapter is me establishing waver's pov, there's an obvious jump in quality between the first and second chapters and it makes me cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-02-06 20:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12825957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: Everything of value in the world belongs to him, it was only fate that led to Waver being of value.





	1. Chapter 1

He knows of the boy long before he sees him in person. He’s seen glimpses of his face in the various files that Kirei and Tokiomi had looked over. He doesn’t know much about him though, not his name nor his age. Only his enemies held interest to him, the Masters were hardly important except for when they should have been bowing to him. He didn’t study the Masters like they were textbooks like Tokiomi and Kirei, he didn’t even study the Servants in such a way. Those endeavors weren’t worth his time and as a king it was only right that he left those jobs to those of lesser status.

What he did know about the boy, however, was that the glimpses and brief looks at his photo didn’t do the real thing justice. The photo didn’t highlight any of his true beauty. Another flaw with the modern era, he supposed, the ability to capture moments but the inability to make them beautiful. And the boy was stunningly beautiful, young with short dark hair and a small lithe frame. He looked almost comically small as he shook next to Rider, fear obvious in his every move.

The fear doesn’t deter Gilgamesh’s fascination, if anything it amplifies it. The fear showed that the boy was persistent and able to face his fears. That even if he didn’t want to, he would not run. He could have just as easily commanded his Servant to let him be, but he did not. He was going through with a battle with his Servant, which was likely more than the other Masters could say for themselves, even Gilgamesh’s own.

Rider seemed to agree, as Lancer’s Master tried to lay claim to him, threatening the boy, Waver. Rider not only calls out Lancer’s Master, but the Masters that were watching as well, dragging him and the others down with a few words. In the same sentence he puts the boy high above the rest and lays down his title as a false king. It is clear that he will protect the boy like he is his own, despite his rather obvious disobedience.

It’s with that that Gilgamesh makes a decision. He wants that boy to be his. He wants him to kneel in front of him, to sit beside his throne like he was meant to be there. He wants to feel him shivering in anticipation, his warm weight in his lap as he sits on his throne. He wants to hear him whisper his name in worship, like it was a gift.

Everything of value in the world was Gilgamesh’s, it was his right. He wanted the boy and the boy had always been his, but Gilgamesh was going to cement his claim, snatch him right out of Rider’s arms and into Gilgamesh’s and none other would touch him. It would take a bit of work on his part though, it was likely that Rider would not let his Master go without his consent and even more likely that the boy would not consent without being properly courted in some way.

There was also the matter of the other Servants entirely. While he did not doubt that he could slay them all easily, they would likely hinder him from both of his goals.

It’s with the false claims at kinghood that Gilgamesh appears on a lamppost, decked in his golden armor and showing his presence to those below him. He’s almost amused by the way that Saber and Rider claim to be kings, especially with him standing there, but he is also annoyed. They should have been bowing to him, he was the King of Heroes, the only one who could ever lay a true claim to the world.

They all see him as he appears, but it’s Waver’s eyes that widen as he lets a fearful, “Oh no, that’s him.”

Gilgamesh notes that it isn’t as shaky and afraid as when he was speaking to Kayneth and it amuses him and disrespects him. The boy had such petty fears, but faced with a true king he did not bow? He was either foolish or he felt more secure with his Servant. Gilgamesh was sure that the boy was both. Despite this, he speaks, not to Waver, but to the Servants, “So, two lesser beings dare to name themselves king, even in my royal presence.”

Rider turns to him, his confusion apparent, “I fail to see where the problem lies, Servant, for I am Iskandar, the legendary King of Conquers, known to all the lands in the world.”

Gilgamesh’s exasperation toward the Servant grows and he wants to laugh at his clear delusions and misconceptions. He does not laugh however, but instead he speaks. His tone stays almost as neutral as it was before, only a hint of annoyance dripping from his words, “What nonsense. You’re deluding yourself. I am the one true king of the world. All others are mongrels, pretenders to the name.”

“If you’re that insistent of your claim, why not name yourself?” Rider asks him flippantly, without a care, “No true king should be troubled by something as simple as giving his name to those he wishes to challenge.”

Who Gilgamesh is should be simple and it annoys him that this false king does not know his name, does not bow at his feet and beg for forgiveness for his insolence. No other could have ever been as grand and as memorable as Gilgamesh, in his life or death. Yet, here is Rider claiming that all of the world knows his name? The mere thought was a preposterous thing to suggest.

With the question, Gilgamesh is done indulging the fake king for even a second. He has moved from an amusing protector to an annoying pest within moments. It does not matter that he is Waver’s or that Waver seems to have become at least slightly attached to him.

“So, you would question me, you filthy mongrel? Me, the one true king?” There is a crack as the light under his feet shatters, a warning and condemnation in one. It draws the attention of no one. “If you cannot now discern my identity in the presence of my magnificent glory, then your ignorant blindness will serve to seal your doom.”

He spares one quick glance Waver before his Noble Phantasm appears behind him, true and powerful in all of its glory. He looks fearful and Gilgamesh is swept with both pride and dread. The pride is obvious. The dread confuses Gilgamesh, as he should want to be feared by all, including Waver. His premature affections should not matter. He ignores the dread, it mattered just as much as his minuscule affections. His only goal is to prove to all three of the Servants and their Masters as to why he is the one and only true King.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has so much better quality than the first one and it will make me die-
> 
> i'm sorry for making you all wait for so long for an update!!!!!!!!

To say Waver was scared would have been an understatement. Waver was terrified. Archer was a horrifying Servant, far more terrifying than he had expected. Bathed in the ethereal light of his Noble Phantasm, he was only more so. It only seemed to multiply behind him, becoming an endless see of bright and glowing gold.

The whole moment felt tense, filled to the brim with anger and frustration. It was only amplified by the newfound fear as Archer’s eyes moved to him, considering. It made Waver shake like a wet dog. He wanted it to stop, to have never have happened at all. It made his breathing hitch and panic build in his stomach, pressing against his heart and making it thump like a drum.

Seconds passed before Archer’s eyes left him, feeling like centuries under his red eyes. His almost killer intent seemed to drag time on, though it only lasted moments at most. Part of Waver wanted the man’s eyes to return, but he forced the train of thought down.

The stronger part of him wanted to cry and curl up. Before he could, Rider spoke, bringing him back to the world, “I see. So, that is how he killed assassin.”

Waver forced down his urge to cry before the tears began, stuffing himself into a mental box and tucking himself against Rider’s side. The way that Rider’s arm slipped around his shoulders told him that the larger man would protect him and that he too had caught the brief way that Archer had stared at him. Rider’s grip was protective and warm, holding Waver like a parent would a scared child. It brought comfort to Waver’s chest.

The clanging of armor was the next to catch his attention. Saber had moved forward to protect her Master, shielding her from harm. Saber looked fierce and noble as she did so, a true king among them. The seconds passed in slow motion. Rider removed Waver from his side and prepared for battle.

The moment was truly broken when the Archer chuckled. His face contorted into something akin to malice. He was still grinning as his weapons took aim, ready to take them out in one fell swoop.

A sudden sound stopped the reverie before it could begin. Materializing out of the darkness, a knight appeared. Decked in black armor and kneeling on the ground, he was a truly terrifying sight, making Waver shake far more than the Archer had.

As the Servant stood and roared, Waver thought he would rather have Archer’s gaze on him. It had felt warmer than this, so much more. The Servant sounded like nothing that Waver had ever heard before.

“Berserker?” Saber’s voice cut through the air, full of question.

Waver tore his eyes away from the black knight, moving them to the beacon of gold that was Archer. Waver barely registered the Lancer’s voice as he gazed upon the Archer, enamored with the way that he glared into Berserker. He was angry, the intent to destroy clear and Waver doubted it truly mattered who.

Beside him, Rider spoke. The conversation around Waver should have been important, but Waver was far too fearful and enraptured in the way that the Archer glared at the Berserker.

“Hey there, boy,” Rider cut through the distraction, placing a hand on Waver’s shoulder. “How powerful a Servant is this monster?”

At the question, Archer’s gaze returned to them and Waver knew that he had caught his stare. The Servant smirked at him and Waver turned toward the Berserker quickly, not daring to look at him for a moment longer.

Waver attempted to get a reading on the monster of a Servant, but moments of concentration and trying gave way to no results. It was almost as if the Servant was surrounded by a thick fog, obscuring an outside view on him.

“I don’t know,” Waver answered Rider, confusion rang through his voice, “I can’t really tell.”

Rider stiffened behind him, but it was only Waver’s proximity that allowed him to feel it. To everyone else, Rider had stayed calm, the large man merely questioned, “What do you mean, boy? Are you not a Master chosen by the Holy Grail? You’re supposed to be able to sense all their strengths and weaknesses, aren’t you?”

The longer that Waver gazed upon the Berserker, the more his ever-rising dread built, threatening to overflow. Waver began to shake once more, his eyes never leaving the Servant. It seemed to draw in the darkness and make it his own. It made Waver whimper, fear getting the best of him.

“I can’t tell anything. The black thing is definitely a Servant,” Waver attempted to explain, his voice almost quivering, “but I can’t read its status or anything else.”

Rider made a low and contemplative sound, but Saber’s Master was the first to speak, “It appears you’ll be facing another difficult enemy.”

The woman’s words were obvious, but they made reality crash down upon him like a tidal wave. The pit in his stomach only grew wider, devouring everything else. His throat felt dry and parched. He shook, both in fear and the effort that it took to keep himself from becoming a crying mess. The whole situation was far too much for him.

“Yes, so it seems,” Saber agreed with her Master without hesitation, only boosting Waver’s fears. “That spirit has some sort of curse or other ability. It fully conceals nearly everything about him.”

Saber continued to speak, but Waver tuned it out, trying to push down his emotions of fear and panic. Rider was a comforting presence that made it easier, a pillar that Waver could rely upon. Waver pressed onto the hope that Rider would not allow harm to come to him.

Waver’s eyes moved back toward the Servants after he took a moment to gather himself. Silence reigned upon them, the Servants seemingly sizing one another up. He distantly wondered if the hidden Masters were doing the same.

The Archer’s voice rang out, after what felt like an eternity. It drew everyone’s eyes to him, “Who gave you permission to look upon me? You rabid dog.” Waver watched in all three fear, fascination, and awe as the Servant’s Noble Phantasm turned from the gathered Servants. Rather than them, the weapons now focused on Berserker. Archer only continued to speak as they adjusted, his anger now replaced with a thin mask of boredom. “May your death provide me some modicum of entertainment, mongrel.”

Time passed in a tense and heady silence that lasted a few seconds at most, but to Waver it felt like forever. Time froze around him. Archer fired.


End file.
